


Of A Witcher And His Changeling

by flowerflood



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Fluff, Geralt is done with this shit, Jaskier is sassy, M/M, Nudity, Shapeshifter!Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22224763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerflood/pseuds/flowerflood
Summary: Jaskier finds himself bound to a Witcher, unable to return to his non-human form. Needless to say, he isn't amused.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 361





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What's up, my dudes?
> 
> I have no plans whatsoever for this, apart from the fact that it will probably span over a few chapters until I have a mental breakdown over it, so have fun with this bullshit I typed up in the middle of the night.

The forrest was cold, the ground muddy from the rain and dew of the early morning, and there was a boy kneeling in the grass. 

At first, Geralt couldn't believe his eyes. The boy had not been there only seconds ago, that much he knew, but he had no explanation as to why he was there. Even more importantly, though, he had no explanation as to why he was kneeling in the muddy grass of the clearing the forrest, completely bare of any clothing.

He was bare, with light skin that seemed to shine under the morning sun, big blue eyes that stared up at Geralt in wonder and lips that were so very kissable that Geralt wished to pull him up and unite them with his own. It was a strange feeling. A feeling the Witcher was not used to, especially not with men. 

More and more questions gathered around the young sir. Was he a boy or a man? Why was he here? Why was he bare? Why was he kneeling in front of Geralt, staring at him as if expecting a command? 

What Geralt really wondered, though, was how he was supposed to get rid of him.

“My name is Jaskier.”, The boy (or man?) suddenly spoke up, making Geralt blink twice. “You have freed me. Technically speaking, that means that I'm yours now, but I'm pretty sure we can bend the rules a little. I don't really have a thing for being anyones property, so I wouldn't mind going back to running around as a deer either.”

“Yeah, I wish I could just do that. Would make lots of stuff easier, right? Deer have it easier than people. I was quite happy as one, I have to say, even though I couldn't sing or talk, it wasn't bad. Actually, it was amazing, as long as there were no hunters around. But you're a Witcher, right? You have to understand, obviously. You won't hurt me, I got that much when you killed the forrest's monster. Plus, you took me to your camp and tried to heal me, which, my friend, I am very grateful for, but I still really-”

Geralt looked down at the boy, his expression as stoic and firm as ever. “When will you finally get to the point?” He cut in, breaking Jaskier's monologue. 

The changeling, which Geralt now realized must have been trapped inside of his animal form for quite some time, huffed and rolled his eyes. Though he was kneeling and naked, he still struck up his chin and looked upon Geralt with a certain pride and arrogance. 

“Well, I will ignore your lack of manners and _get to my point_ , then.” He made no attempt at rising from his submissive position. Even like this, his personality was dominant enough to let Geralt know that Jaskier wouldn't let anyone boss him around just like that 

“I was cursed to find someone to aid me to return to my human form. Because I had no intention of returning to my human form, I avoided humans and kept to myself, but you, my friend, just had to tear that tooth from my shoulder and bring me to your camp to bandage it." The wound was still on his shoulder, just like the bandages Geralt had put on the deer the night before.

“Now, what I want is for you to release me back into the forrest so I can go back to my beautiful life in this beautiful forrest, without you and all human affairs. Any complaints?” 

The Witcher shook his head. He wasn't going to argue about him not being human, since he was sure the changeling wouldn't care. To him, anything walking on two legs, causing chaos in its forrest, was a human and with that a threat. 

“Good day, then.” With a huff, the changeling stood up, turned and started walking. Geralt wished he could have said that he didn't find himself staring at Jaskier's ass as he walked, until his attention was caught by the fact that he suddenly started running, then leaped into the air and- 

-and fell into the mudd. He cursed, shook himself as he got up, and glared at Geralt as if his looks could have killed the Witcher. He marched back toward him, now significantly angrier than before. 

“You won't release me!” Jaskier accused, poking the man's chest, standing so close that their height difference became obvious, with Geralt towering over the changeling.

Geralt frowned down at the changeling. “Hm.” He turned around and walked over to his bedroll to start packing his things. After all, he still had to bring the dead monster's head to the mage to get his bounty. 

“Wait, what- Hey, where are you going? Are you even listening to me? You ignorant asshole, I'm trying to figure out what to do about this over here!” Jaskier shouted over at Geralt. “I want you to release me! I will not let you keep me in this form! I- damn it, it's cold- I need to get back to what I was before. I can't stay like this and I certainly won't start following you around like some pityful _pet_.”

The changeling glared over at Geralt, while he grabbed one of his tunics from the line he had put up to dry them the day before. He put it on and, though he was basically swimming in the fabric, seemed satisfied with the bit of warmth that it provided. 

“Listen, I can't stay like this. I'm not supposed to be human, I haven't been in, I don't know, probably at least twenty years, and I won't be your pet simply because you _saved_ me, when there was no need for me to be saved. I was fine on my own and I will continue to be fine on my own in the future, thank you very much.”

For a moment, the fast talking changeling stopped and silence fell between the two, as Geralt packed up his things, placing them in the bags placed on Roach's back. 

Then, the Witcher spoke up, and Jaskier's heart dropped, “I can't release you.”

“You what?!” He cried out, glaring at the man as he stepped closer on bare feet that didn't mind the cold muddy ground in the slightest. "You say you cannot release me? I beg your pardon? I didn't sign up for-”

Geralt grunted and turned around to look at Jaskier. He wished he had remembered this tiny deatail earlier. Then his clothes, the ones Jaskier wore, wouldn't be muddy now. "Yeah, believe me, I don't want you with me either, but I can't release you. Releasing a changeling from service isn't that easy. You were tricked. The initial curse didn't matter, only the one you would have afterwards; the servitude you would have to do, by changeling nature.”

Jaskier couldn't have glared harder at Geralt if he tried. Partly, he was offended that the other knew better about his kind than he did himself, while another part of him simply couldn't accept being trapped as a human. A human slave to this Witcher nonetheless. He felt pathetic.

“Will you at least let me transform?” - “Bad idea.” 

Jaskier rolled his eyes at that, suppressing the urge to stick his tongue out at Geralt. He had only been a child when he was turned into a deer for the entirety of his life up until this poing, meaning manners, to some degree, were foreign to him. At least obeying to them. He knew plenty about complaining about other people's manners.

“Why, pray tell, oh White Wolf, is it such a bad idea?” He huffed, arms crossed in front of his chest as he stared at Geralt with a glare. Damn that man. 

Geralt kept putting down his camp and collecting everything to put into the bag's Roach carried. “Where I am headed, you will be shot as a deer.”

Even though he didn't like listening to the Witcher and liked obeying to him even less, Jaskier had to admit that being shot sounded like an even worse idea. He wasn't ready to try that one yet, he decided. He was too young and handsome. 

“I will accept this once and once only. As soon as we enter another forrest, Witcher, you will let me take a comfortable form again." He spoke in a threatening tone, though there wasn't much he could do to the other. Geralt was taller, over all bigger, stronger and maybe even faster than him. Plus, he was a Witcher. Jaskier had no chance in a fight.

Geralt nodded nevertheless, though he did it with a roll of his eyes, earning the changeling narrowing his eyes at him. This would be a fun journey.

As they started walking, Geralt leading Roach by her reigns, while Jaskier walked by his side (now wearing pants, but still barefoot), Jaskier spoke up. “What is your name, Witcher?”

“Geralt if Rivia.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is one whole mess and Geralt has to deal with that now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wHy do people like this so much? This whole thing is a mess! Thank you for all the kudos and kind words nevertheless! Y'all are the reason I'm continuing this :)

Jaskier's heart was beating fast enough to make him think he might be struck down and die within the next moments. It beat hard against his chest, and it seemed loud enough for Geralt to hear, since the Witcher turned to him and gave him a look, one brow raised.

It wasn't that Jaskier didn't like people. No, actually, that was part of it. He didn't like people. Not one bit. 

Being a changeling meant being hunted, with some hunters knowing about the nature of their prey, while some others were oblivious to it. No matter which kind one encountered, it always had the same end; death. Either of oneself, a friend, maybe even of a loved one. 

That, together with the fact that Jaskier hadn't properly encountered and been around humans for quite some time now, made it difficult for him to adjust to the situation.

Geralt had explained this to him. Had told him that he knew that Jaskier probably wouldn't like this, but that they would go into town and to a market. He needed some things for himself and had to provide clothes for Jaskier too. 

The changeling had argued that if Geralt simply let him roam in his natural form (for that was what he felt it was) or let him continue to dress in the Witcher's clothing, they wouldn't have this problem. Sadly, Geralt declined this offer. Jaskier had wanted to turn and run antlers first into him.

His eyes widened and he jumped against Geralt's side, grabbing his arm tightly. The girl, who had accidentally run into Jaskier, gave him a strange look, before contuing on her way. It didn't help Jaskier one bit. He was still hyperaware of his surroundings and didn't seem to be anywhere close to gathering enough courage to let go of Geralt's sleeve. 

Once he saw the look the Witcher gave him, one brow raised (was that worry he glimpsed at in his eyes?), though, he let go of him immediately, huffing. He struck up his chin in an almost arrogant manner and strut straight ahead. Geralt had no trouble picturing the man as a stag.

Especially when Jaskier continued to strut ahead, until someone bumped into him and he jumped, spinning around to see them as he took quick steps backwards, right until he was backed up against one of the stands with clothing. 

Had Geralt been human, he would have snorted and shook his head. 

Since he wasn't, though, he only walked up to Jaskier, who gave him a serious glare, as if the other was doubting his courage and boldness, and as if there was no worse offense than this. Again, he huffed, turned and looked down at the clothes.

“This one! Now this one I like!” - “It's a chemise.” Geralt simply stated, watching as Jaskier traced the lace and embroidery with delicate fingers. “So?” He raised a brow at the Witcher. “Does that mean it does not count as clothing?”

“It means that it counts as women's underwear, so no, it does not count as clothing, espcially not for you.” 

Jaskier almost looked offended at that, so much so that Geralt considered buying the chemise to make up for it to him. 

His big, blue eyes were drowning in so much emotion, Geralt had a hard time grasping it all. They changed so quickly, expressed them so boldly, it made Geralt's head spin, made him want to draw Jaskier close and simply observe as his emotions passed and grew, faded and returned.

But alas, Geralt didn't. He didn't draw Jaskier close, didn't continue to stare into his eyes, the chance being taken from him as Jaskier turned and moved on to the next salesman selling clothes (this time even the ones for men). 

As Jaskier picked what he liked and tossed it at Geralt for him to catch and pay, Geralt quickly found out that Jaskier wouldn't make the mistake of asking Geralt about clothes again, possibly because he didn't want to be told that he couldn't wear them once again. 

Geralt also learned that Jaskier, though he had most likely spent the majority of his life in forrests, had a thing for embroidery, colours and over all, a style not nearly as cheap as the Witcher (though he had to admit, he mostly just took whatever he could get and wore it until he couldn't get it fixed anymore).

Geralt only grew worried when he had paid for everything and was carrying over the market, but failed to find Jaskier anywhere. He doubted the changeling would simply abandon him, judging by how anxious he had been only walking around a few feet away from him merely seconds ago. It was more likely that he had gotten scared and listened to his instincts, which basically meant, Jaskier would have run. The Witcher didn't doubt that the changeling was a fast runner, which only fed his anxiety. 

He sped up, walking faster, taking big steps that sent mud splashing up from the ground and against the legs of his, as well as of people passing by him,'s pants. 

When after a few moments, Jaskier was still not in sight, fear gripped the Witcher. 

“Jaskier!” Geralt barked, loud enough to make some people shy away from him, looking at the Witcher with fear in their eyes. 

Suddenly, a pair of blue eyes appeared, looking up in alarm, brown hair disheveled, drool on his (Geralt's) shirt, and the head of a cow in his lap. 

The changeling had settled with some cattle that seemed to be for sale. They seemed to like him, since one had its head in his lap, another one gently resting its forehead against Jaskier's shoulder, eyes closed. 

The sight let Geralt relax and he released a long breath, eyes closing for a moment. Jaskier was fine. He opened his eyes again and joined the other. 

“I was singing for them. They're afraid, Geralt.” Jaskier said, as if it explained anything. His gaze turned down and he gently ran his hands across the horns of the cow in his lap. “So many people, so much noise...”

Geralt hummed. He understood them, as well as Jaskier. It wasn't as if he liked any of this either; people running around, children screaming and crying, thieves whereever one went, but it was a necessary evil, at the moment.

“You can't run off like that.” The _I thought I had lost you_ goes unsaid.

Those big blue eyes gaze up at him again, while Jaskier continues to pet the cow's forehead. He didn't seem to listen to Geralt even in the slightest, because his next question was, “Can we take them?”

Geralt immediately wanted to say no. He didn't have the money for this, goddamn it, Jaskier! He couldn't just buy cattle at a random market! He didn't have anywhere to take them, he didn't have any use for them and he sure as hell wasn't going to kill them.

But another look at Jaskier's eyes told him that the changeling didn't seem to agree. His eyes were big and bright, shining with so much emotion that Geralt had no way of knowing if Jaskier was going to jump up and laugh or fall down and cry within the next second. 

“Fuck.” Geralt softly uttered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is convinced that Jaskier should stay human. Jaskier isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skdjdj bold of y'all to assume I know whatever tf I'm doing over here.

Tearing Jaskier away from the cattle wasn't easy. 

Well, Geralt could have made it easy on himself by just walking off. At some point the changeling would have started feeling a stinging pain his chest, showing that he was further away from the Witcher (Geralt refused to think of himself as Jaskier's master or owner in any way) than their fresh bond allowed.

Because the Witcher had no intention of hurting the other, though, he tried to persuade him to simply leave with him instead, and leave the cows be. 

“Gerlat.” Jaskier was pacing up and down the room of the inn they were staying at. He had opened a window and gotten rid of most of his clothes (except for his breeches) already, trying to get somewhat comfortable. Still, it seemed impossible for the changeling to settle. 

“What?” Geralt grunted. He had had a long day and was laying in the bed, one eye opened as he looked over at Jaskier, who wouldn't stop pacing for even a second. It was almost upsetting to watch. He was sure that had Roach been there and not in the stables, she would have gotten nervous as well simply watching Jaskier.

“Release me.” He spoke, almost softly, though still demanding. His pain was obvious in his eyes, pleading for Geralt to simply let him have this thing. 

_This one simple thing._

“No.”

Geralt could almost watch Jaskier's heart break as he declined. It hurt him as well, surely, but he couldn't allow the possibility of someone finding them and Jaskier being hurt. Being a Witcher already wasn't easy, but with a changeling by his side? People would try to kill them at every turn.

Changelings were wanted. People deemed them a danger when roaming freely, since all folklore told of them being stealing bastards, taking whatever they could, ungrateful for whatever they were given. There were storries of them disguising themselves as women, tearing families apart by luring in men and leaving them with the ensuing baby, the disgusting half-breeds, most of whom were continued to be drowned in the rivers, never growing older than a few weeks.

Those tales were nowhere near the truth, Geralt knew that, but he still couldn't help but wonder if Jaskier also knew of them and of how Geralt knew that they weren't true. He definitely knew about Witchers and didn't seem stupid, so there was a chance. 

Jaskier's fingers nervously gripped his own hair, while he looked about to fall down and burst into tears. He wanted to go back to how life was just a few days ago, before the monster had entered his forest and brought Geralt with him. 

"I- Geralt, I can't do this any longer. I just want to- I can't- I cannot stay _this_!" 

A soft huff escaped his lips and he turned, starting to pace again. It was obvious that he was used to walking on graceful hooves over the harsh ground of the forest, not the even ground of the floorboards; he raised his feet too high, set them on the floor a little too delicately to be used to the feeling of them. No matter where or how he walked, though, he always kept his chin tilted up with dignity and a certain grace. 

“This needs to stop. I demand it. Release me of this, at least of _this form_! That is all I ask of you!” Suddenly, he fell to his knees, right next to the bed, staring up with big, blue eyes. It happened to suddenly that Geralt was a little suprised. 

“No.” 

Even though Jaskier was there, pleading, on his knees, Geralt's voice and expression stayed firm as ever. To anyone watching them, it would have seemed as if Geralt hadn't been affected at all, but Jaskier knew better. He could see that it hurt Geralt to have to deny him this, but that didn't keep him from still asking for it. He understood part of Geralt's reasons, but that was the issue; he only understood part of them.

Jaskier stood again, turning and strutting (even when angry he still couldn't stomp) to the window. It caused Geralt to fear, though not seriously but just for a second, that Jaskier might make the impulsive decision to jump out. 

Instead, the changeling stood at the window, his hands planted on the windowsill as he stared down. It was dark outside. The moon and stars lit the sky in the most poetic way, causing both of them to yearn to return back to the forrest. 

Jaskier felt as if part of himself was being forcefully torn away, almost as if a beast was tearing at his limbs. He had the urge to run for miles and miles, as long as it would take for him to be able to leap into the air and feel for what felt as his true form's hooves to touch the ground again once he landed. 

His blue eyes closed and he took a deep breath. An icy wind played unpon his pale skin, covered in freckles, causing him to shiver and shake himself once. 

When he opened his eyes and looked behind himself on the bed, he saw Geralt lying there, chest slowly sinking and rising. It sent a warm feeling through Jaskier's body, seeing the Witcher so calm and at ease for once. 

Jaskier woke to the sun shining through the window and a warm body pressing against his back. For the first second, he tried to shove the body behind him off, but as soon as he realized it was Geralt who curled up behind him, arms wrapped around Jaskier's middle, he stilled.

Without waking the Witcher from his sleep, he slid out of his arms and got up, watching Geralt grunt and turn his back to the Changeling. How kind. Jaskier rolled his eyes at him. 

He gathered some of the clothes they had bought the day prior ( _them_ meaning Geralt) and put them on, still careful to keep quiet enough for his companion to stay asleep. 

Companion. Was that what they were now? Would Geralt force him to stay with him on his travels? Where was the Witcher even headed? Why wouldn't he leave Jaskier?

These questions left Jaskier's head spinning.

Because he was still well aware how Geralt had reacted when he had disappeared on the market, Jaskier decided not to run off into town to visit the cows again. Instead, he settled on the windowsill, windows opened wide so he could dangle his legs outside and look on over at least some of the smaller buildings and some if the narrow paths between them. 

To Jaskier, everything was tinted grey. It wasn't nearly as colourful as in the forrests and mountains he had spent his life in. Everything seemed robbed of happiness and colour, as if humans had stripped all of that away the day they started building the first house in the village. 

Humans meant trouble, Jaskier knew that much. That counted even for the Witcher he was accompanying. 

Maybe he should try to run away again. However, any rationality left in his conciousness told him that that wouldn't work. He couldn't transform and simply running away wouldn't do either; humans were cruel enough to let him starve and freeze among them, even when in disguise as one of them. 

Maybe it was fate, Jaskier considered. 

He had always found some solace in the idea that destiny had a story written out for him, or at least some outlines, some people he was meant to meet, some things he was meant to do. 

Maybe he was meant to meet the lonely Witcher. Maybe he was meant to make him... A little less of a _lonely_ Witcher, though Jaskier doubted there was such a thing as a social Witcher. It could be that they were all taught humanity was a failiure they weren't meant to engage with. 

On the other hand, was Jaskier's opinion on humanity truly all that different from Geralt's, assuming that was indeed what the Witcher thought?


End file.
